


Family Ties

by lary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life doesn't always turn out as one expects it to.</p><p>This is Severus' POV: any explicit sex is m/m only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own them.

 

 

It was never supposed to be love. It was typical, how the plans Severus carefully concocted always seemed to be shot straight to hell.

 

 

_Long, delicate fingers are searching his skin and running across his torso, reverently, the still-gentle touch making him shiver and causing goosebumps take presence on his arms, on his chest, making his breath come quickly._

 

 

Severus would happily award a round of cruciatus for the imbecile who first came up with the ridiculous notion of One True Love. The second round would go to his teenage self, who had believed himself safe. He had already found her, his True Love (beautiful Lily, as fiery in her anger as the shade of her hair, and always always completely unattainable). He had thought himself safe from all of it.

 

He'd been an idiot.

 

 

_The metal is cool against his skin and it's familiar, comforting in the heaviness with which it circles his wrists and ankles, grounding him, linking him to present, to reality, to this moment where nothing else exists except for his body in this space and the man he belongs to._

 

 

Not that he could entirely blame himself for having believed it so. After all, he was way out of his league, and well aware of it.

 

Lucius was as beautiful as Severus was ugly, as popular as he was anti-social. Severus, with a muggle father and a mentally ill witch as a mother, had done all he could to prove his worth, yet never could he reach anything resembling the power, the recognition, the status that the older wizard had been born with.

 

 

_The first whack of the whip is nearly a surprise, though how Lucius is able to make it so – after all these years, and with Severus shackled to the wall, spread wide open and vulnerable – he will never know. With the subsequent blows his arms start to tremble, but for a long while the only sounds are the crack the whip makes as it cuts the air and the lash of it against skin, sharp like the sting of it._

 

 

Lucius had first kissed him (lips hot on his and tongue invading his mouth with unadulterated want) behind the pale pine tree just deep enough in the gardens or the Malfoy Manor to be safe from prying eyes of the massive amounts of guests gathered to celebrate his engagement to Narcissa Black, an ethereally beautiful pure-blood witch from a suitably powerful family, yet a woman much too intelligent ever to become a mere trophy wife. Lucius had departed (little evidence of his usual composure present before once again assuming the flawless pure-blood mask) before anybody could miss the groom. Severus had observed the flash of regret in the storm grey eyes and had bothered to hide neither the play of his own fingers on his erection nor his amusement at the other man's predicament. He'd come with the taste of Lucius' kisses still on his lips, tree bark biting in his skin, and a secret smile resulting (for the first time in his sixteen-year-long existence) from the fact that Severus had none of the shackles of a rich wizarding heir.

 

 

_He knows it's what Lucius enjoys the most, that first whimper or moan or sob that escapes him at the moment his control is broken down. He used to be able to take minutes of cruciatus before screaming – while the Dark Lord had always waited to hear the screams, not showing weakness meant respect, and respect was what kept you alive. Now, nothing reminds him of that torture, except for this moment where he's pushed to the brink and forced to let go, to surrender himself, to feel it all._

_He struggles against it, hating it, all his instincts resisting – up until one more blow sends him over that line, breaks his will, drawing from him a sound signalling the meld of arousal and agony, the mix of pain and pleasure, so intoxicating he can taste it._

 

 

Three weeks of bittersweet anticipation and unprecedented distractedness in classes and Severus had found himself ravaged (Merlin, yes) against the brick wall of Hog's Head. He'd proceeded to reduce the impeccable Lucius into moaning by wrapping his fingers around his cock (tight and slick and hot) and then Lucius had made him beg for more (yes, everything, harder) by taking him too slowly, splitting him open, thick and hard inside him, all of it too much and not enough and perfect, perfect.

 

 

_When the whip makes him yell, he feels warm lips against his ear, and the low, low purr of, “good boy.”_

_It sets them both free._

 

 

It had come to pass as inevitably as it was always going to happen. For all his cunning, Lucius had always been too willing to believe in his own infallibility. Severus had smirked at the confounded expression on Lucius' face, and Narcissa's laughter had warmed him to his bones. (“Oh, you sweet thing,” she had said to her husband. “Of course I knew.”)

 

Before then, they were already family. From there on, even Lucius admitted it.

 

 

_It was never supposed to be love._

_Those were likely the most famous last words ever spoken._


End file.
